Voldemort Uses His Therapist's Advice
by Chatters
Summary: Voldemort and Harry decide to talk their problems and instead of using violence!...sorta...


Harry took a deep breath before taking his last few steps into the clearing where Voldemort and his pals were. It was time to die so everyone in the battle up at Hogwarts could live, dammit! Whipping out his comb and his little mirror, he checked out his hair one more time- making sure it was perfectly messy. _If I'm gonna die_, he thought, _I'm gonna look sexy doing it_

He took out his iPod and began to blast Ke$ha's 'We Are Who We Are' for his grand entrance. He jumped out from behind the tree to face the Death Eaters and started dancing his best "male stripper at a gay bar" routine he had been working on. He pop, locked, and dropped it all the way down to Sexy Town in his opinion. Grinding against trees and wiggling his butt in his tight, fabulous jeans.

No one was paying attention, though. So he shut off the music and headed toward Voldemort. He and his gang-bangers were all sitting at café tables, much to his surprise. Every table had two chairs. _What the hell is this shit? _All the Death Eaters were merrily chattering away. Harry spotted Voldemort sitting alone with one empty chair across from him. _Haha Voldemort has no friends_, Harry thought at first. It then occurred to him that that chair might be for him. He began to tear up at the thought of Voldy saving a seat for him. What a good guy.

"Harry, you made it. And look at that hair. So perfectly positioned! You're going to have to show me how to achieve that sexy perfection," Voldemort said to Harry. Harry was so pleased Voldemort recognized his efforts that he decided not to remind him he was bald and could never achieve sexy perfection. "Sit."

Harry sat, but something was off. "So, trying to get in my pants?" He said to break the ice. The awkward silence that followed showed that the ice was very much unscathed, thickened even.

"My therapist said I should try talking out my problems because 'killing people is mean and unhealthy for my colon'. If you can figure that last part out, more power to you. Not literally though, all the power is MINE YOU CHEAP HOOKER!" Harry fell backwards out of his chair out of surprise for this explosion. "Sorry Harry, not killing people brings back my Tourettes. It's cool though, I got pills. Speaking of pills, my therapist told me to get a hobby. I got into the drug dealing business so if you ever wanna "slay" Puff the Magic Dragon, you know who to call."

Totally thrown off by Voldemort's mood swings and incessant chattering, Harry started pulling his eyebrows out, one strand at a time, and eating them.

"ANYWAY, BITCH! Let's talk through our issues. What did I ever do to you to make you hate me?" Voldemort asked with puppy dog eyes. It was extremely unattractive, but it turned Harry on.

"I just really don't think it's cool that you killed my parents, you know?"

"You know what SLUT," Voldemort said slamming his fist down on the table, "you are right. I was just a bit tipsy 'cause I had been to a crazy ass party that night. You know, just creepin' on some teenage boys…I mean girls…and I was just in the moment. I left the house and said "Let's kill some bitches", and the alcohol got the worst of me. It could have just as easily been Dumbledore who did it. He was at that party too and he was _wasted_! The old man can play beer pong like it's nobody's business," Voldemort reminisced.

"Yes, because when I get drunk I immediately think 'Let's kill some bitches'," Harry said sarcastically. "And what about Cedric? He was my friend!"

"And no he was not. He stole your chick. Stealing someone else's bitch is against the Bro Code. Plus, I didn't kill him."

"Not directly but you told Wormtail too!" Harry accused.

"No, no! See people think I said 'Kill the spare.' What I really said was 'Chill, we'll share.' Me and him just happened to have been arguing over who gets the last the last Swedish stripper we bought. He's just a git. I liked Cedric! I helped deliver him when he was being born- at that party that night."

"WHOSE PARTY WAS THIS!" Harry screamed.

"McGonagalls. Oh, McGona-gurl. What a sexy piece of ass."

"DUDE!" Harry yelled repulsed.

"Well now she is old and wrinkly and "used" if you know what I'm saying but back in the day…"

"Man, really?" Harry said cutting Voldemort off.

"Sorry. But, hey, you aren't all innocent. You killed five pieces of my soul. That makes you 5/7 murderer." Voldemort's feeling of Harry violated his "privates" caused him to break out into tears.

"We thought you were using it to live forever and rule over people ruthlessly."

"I was saving them so I could see how painful every type of death in the world could be. Next week I was planning on drowning myself, next month getting trampled, then later watching a marathon of Hannah Montana!"

"That last one is suicidal!" Harry gasped. Who could be so self destructive?

"THEY'RE ALL SUICIDAL YOU BITCHASS! Four-eyed hard ass with…with…with glasses…." Voldemort mumbled to himself, slowly pulling himself together again.

"You might have an anger problem, but you aren't that bad a guy." Harry stood up and patted Voldemort on the back.

"You too. Sorry about your parents. I'll help you find the bastard that killed them," Voldemort said giving Harry a one armed hug.

"Um…..right…."

"Don't mention it buddy, it's just the kind of guy I am. I still have to kill you though. I'll just do it so this doesn't get too awkward. Avada Kadavera!"

"Shit."


End file.
